


Looking for: Soulmate

by lildemonlili



Series: A Kind of Magic (Soulmate Flower Mark AU) [3]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildemonlili/pseuds/lildemonlili
Summary: What happens when a person isn't just one of those ten percent born with a flower that guides their destiny? What if they're born with two?





	1. Iris and Freesia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niigoki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niigoki/gifts).



> To Nick: HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU WONDERFUL POTATO!  
> To everyone else: Enjoy the story!!!  
> To Nick: You're welcome to enjoy it too, just fyi

She has been famous since birth, Sana.

 

The girl with a destiny on her wrist.

 

Has always been one of those people took pictures of, even the nurses, for the mark she is born with. So gracefully laced around her right wrist, the buds of a purple freesia that let people know of her destiny. The kind of flower that shows up in online polls of who has the most beautiful soul mark.

But little does the public know what hides on her shoulder. Has been there since around the time she could walk. A truth her parents tells her to hide, for her own safety. What won’t people do if they find out. Flock around her, surely. She’d be a sensation. A wonder even. Or a disgrace. Sana’s parents aren’t sure. Has never heard of a case like this.

But Sana is still so small that she doesn’t know. Lives happily in blissful ignorance of the meaning of the pretty flower buds on her body. Just loves how they look, and loves when strangers compliment her wrist. The only thing ever bothering her is why people don’t love the buds on her shoulder too. Why people never compliment that. But her parents instruct her to keep it hidden, so there isn’t much else to do.

So Sana just loves the white buds enough that they won’t feel less loved than the purple buds.

 

But it’s long before Sana’s parents have to admit that there probably isn’t a single normal thing about their happy little girl.

 

It’s a warm day in Sana’s kindergarten and she’s in recess with the other kids. If she wasn’t so busy with her little puppy plush that she had hidden in her backpack, maybe she would’ve heard the buzzing rumors from the other kids, would’ve noticed how they send her looks. But she doesn’t. Just plays with the puppy.

“What’s its name?” a voice asks behind her.

Sana turns. Doesn’t recognize the voice. Doesn’t recognize the face either. But the hand, she definitely recognizes. Because the left hand pointing down at her little puppy is marked with a pink flower bud, lacing around her wrists in a way that’s so familiar. And Sana looks back up at the face. At the chubby cheeks, shy grin and little black pigtails.

Sana tries to talk. But really, it doesn’t go all that well.

The girl sits down. Pokes the plush puppy’s nose and scrunches her own.

“Shushu.” she says.

“What?” Sana croaks.

“It looks like my auntie’s shushu.” the girl says shyly, then repeats the question from before. “What’s its name?”

“Mommy got it for me yesterday. I didn’t give it a name.”

“Shushu.” the girl nods and pats its head.

“Shu...shu.” Sana says, looking curiously at the hand patting the plush’s head. Sana doesn’t know much about flowers honestly. Only knows what her own are because her mommy told her. “Okay. Shushu…”

“Yay!” the girl beams, then looks curiously at Sana. “What’s your name? Mine is Momo.”

“S-sana.” Sana says, stuttering slightly because Momo shuffles closer, and it’s weird. But not bad weird. Just like there’s an extra space in the little bubble Sana’s parents had always made sure she had. A space meant for Momo.

“Momo?” Sana asks, maybe just to taste how the name feels on her own tongue, maybe to get her attention.

“Hm?” Momo looks up from Shushu and grins.

“Your mark...”

“It’s like yours, I know.” Momo nods. “What kind is that?”

“Freesia?” Sana scrunches her nose slightly, because she’s not really sure about the pronunciation. Is suddenly reminded of the one on her shoulders. But she’s not allowed to tell anyone. She knows that. Her mommy told her again and again. _Don’t tell anyone. It’s your most precious secret._

Sana knows she’s not supposed to tell.

But it’s Momo and she’s smiling and Sana really… really can’t help herself.

“Do you have more?” Sana whispers.

“More?” Momo frowns.

Sana looks around. Gestures Momo closer.

And only when she’s completely sure that none of the other kids are looking does Sana pull up the sleeve of her pink t-shirt and reveals her shoulder. Just for a few seconds, then flattens the fabric, letting it hide the mark once more.

This time it’s Momo who doesn’t talk. Momo who’s just staring.

“Do you think I’m a freak?” Sana asks quietly. Has heard her mom tell that word to her dad one night when they fought about how to handle her. That they didn’t want people to think she was a freak.

Slowly, Momo shakes her head. “No…”

And then she turns. Takes off the yellow hat and bends her neck, pulling slightly at the back of her shirt to expose the neck.

 

It’s Sana who touches it, the white buds on Momo’s neck, but immediately retreats her hand at the itching sensation on her wrist. But then Momo’s fingers are around her thumb and holds her there.

“Look.” Momo whispers.

And Sana does. Watches with Momo as the purple and pink buds unfold on their skin to reveal the true beauty of their soul marks. Bloomed at first touch.

 

They’re inseparable from that second.

 

So really, what do you do when you come to the school to pick up your kid and she’s holding hands with some girl and announces that she found her soulmate. Five years old. And what do you do when she reveals that she not only broke the promise not to tell anyone about the bouvardia, but that the girl next to her has the exact same flower on the back of her neck?

 

There’s only one thing to do, honestly.

Accept it.

Go with the flow.

Watch the two girls grow up, hand in hand. Talk to them about friendships and lovers and soulmates as they get older. Adjust along the way. Make mistakes and find new ways.

But you watch them still, Sana’s right hand in Momo’s left. Watch as it evolves from the grasp of chubby little fingers to a tight clasp, to fingers twining on a cold winter night. Listens as Sana tells how her heart is changing. How she felt something when Momo hugged her the other night.

 

They’re so right for each other. Bicker like they’ve been married ten years at the age of fifteen. Which I mean, they kind of have. But it’s still slightly bizzare to see two girls growing up past their teenage years with equal amounts of stink eyes, quippy remarks, laughter and kisses in the light from the fairy lights around Sana’s princess bed.

 

It’s not that they’re not happy. They are. Wonderfully happy, with each other. But they’re just not… complete. There’s always something missing. And every time they see the marks in the mirror, the matching white flowers, they’re reminded of what’s missing between them.

 

But how do you find someone you don’t know where to look for. They could be anywhere. Could be anyone.

 

It’s Momo’s idea. One night, lying on Sana’s bed, door open and the TV on some drama that neither were watching, Momo with her nose in her phone and Sana going through her closet for clothes to give away to make space for the new styles coming in stores next week.

Momo sighs as she scrolls through instagram, looking at pictures of soul marks once more, hoping to find someone who has more than one. But who would show that off? Momo and Sana don’t even show it off. The word _freak_ still sits between them like a chip that threatens to turn into a crack if they let it. They know what they want, but it doesn’t change the fact that they were both raised to hide it. Even if their parents did it out of a good heart, it still leaves a scar. A thought at the back of their heads that won’t go away.

“I really wish there was a soulmate dating site or something.” Momo mumbles.

“What? Looking for: Soulmate?” Sana snorts from inside the closet.

“Yeah. Like you see all these people posting pictures of their marks, bet they’re all looking for their soulmate.” Momo ponders, going through the tag.

“But the marks aren’t the same, like it’s so rare that they match like ours.” Sana finally turns around to face her girlfriend. It’s still weird going from _best friend Momo_ to _girlfriend Momo_. Not in their hearts, but when they talk about each other.

“But don’t you think since the bouvardias are the same for us, that whomever they belong to has our marks? You know, the freesia and the iris?” Momo puts down her phone and watches as Sana sits down on the bed. She’s wearing a tank top. Always shows off her shoulder when it’s just the two of them.

“Maybe? I don’t know. But we can’t really… just go around asking people if they’ve seen someone with double soulmark. Officially we don’t even have that.” Sana argues.

“No I know that. But you know how much mark-less people love soulmarks, it’s an industry.”

“Yeah, so?” Sana lies down on the bed. Stares up at the plastic stars on the ceiling.

“Well what if we started posting pictures. Mom and dad have a ton from when we were kids, of us holding hands. And we make an instagram account and use hashtags, they’re so unique people are bound to notice.”

“Get internet famous? Like those long distance couples on youtube?”

“Why not? If we get enough people to see these,” Momo takes Sana’s right hand, twining their fingers so the marks match, “There might be someone who thinks _hey, I have those marks_ and contacts us.”

Sana looks at her, a bit like she’s lost her mind. Then looks at their hands.

“You have to admit, it’s the kind of thing people would love.”

“If I find my soulmark in some shitty heterosexual young adult book down in the corner store’s rose colored section, I’m breaking up with you.” Sana says flatly.

Momo shrugs. “Fine by me, I can live without you.”

Sana sends the older girl one of her best stink eyes and puffs her cheeks until Momo deflates them with a poke to each cheek.

 

And so they start. It’s Sana who makes the page. Posts most of the pictures. Old pictures of them as kids - no faces - just hands, new pictures from when they go places. Momo’s hand in Sana’s. Pictures of their world. They never say that they’re looking for someone to fill their world. Just hopes that someone will turn up on their own, recognize their marks. And there’s honestly a good chance, because Momo was so right, their account goes viral within months, and people even recognize them on the street from time to time, from their marks, their tangled hands.

 

Always searching.


	2. Bouvardia

It wasn’t like Dahyun ever asked to be different. Never asked for any of it.

...

It’s one of those beautiful days, where the sun is high but the wind is cool and shade is provided by fluffy cotton candy clouds. The perfect day for a little boy to become a big brother. For a happy relatively unworried couple to give birth to a little girl.

And maybe that should’ve been their warning. Their big flashing neon sign that something was about to go completely wrong. Because pained screams and the first cries of a healthy little baby are deafened by gasps and outcries from the staff. The wonder a life lasted barely long enough for the little girl to be fully born, before the cord was cut and her blood and mucus covered body carried away, crying for warmth and familiar skin.

“What’s wrong?” the mother gasps, tears streaming from the confusion and from labor and hormones. There’s a hand in her hair and one on her shoulder. Her husband. And they can hear their wonder screaming.

“It can’t be, right sir? It’s not possible.” One of the nurses mumble, just loud enough for the mother to hear.

“What’s going on?” the mother’s voice raises in desperation, but the nurse by her legs just treat her and tells her that everything is under control. The hand on the mother’s shoulder gives her a squeeze, and the mother is sure it’s more to reassure himself than her. He had always been worse at handling these things than she was. And no one had looked forwards to this little girl more than him.

It’s seconds that feels like minutes. Minutes that feels like hours. Then the doctor turns, without their little girl, his brows knotted so hard that it makes at least three lines appear above the bridge of his nose.

“Mr and Mrs Kim?” the doctor swallows hard and clears his throat. Looks like he’s about to tell them she’s dead, but they can hear her wailing for them. Calling out for her mom and dad.

“What… What’s wrong?” the look on the doctor’s face makes it hard to breathe, and the mother tries to look past him.

“How much do you know about the phenomena of soul marks?” the doctor asks, nurses shuffling behind him.

“I… Soul… she has a soul mark?” the mother asks, relief and confusion crashing against each other like waves. Was that really all?

“I think… I think it’s easier if you see for yourself.” The doctor’s eyes are grave, and then he turns around to address one of the nurses. “Seung-ssi? Bring her over.”

The nurse, no more than twenty five, turns with a white bundle in her arms, cradled as if the bundle was made of glass. The mother sees how her knees wobble as she walks, and stretches despite the pain to take the bundle from her. Can just see the downy black hair on the baby’s head poke out from the towel. Her little girl.

When she finally cradles her little girl, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything wrong with the baby at all. A perfect albeit red face with thick black hair and big curious eyes, mouth slightly open. Has stopped crying and is now merely sniffling. 

Her little Dahyun.

Instinctively the mother reaches inside the white sheets to find a hand, but the action reveals just a little corner of green on the baby’s chest. That must be the soulmark. And right over her heart even. A girl with a destiny, fitting for her name. But it still doesn’t make sense. Why would this give cause for such outcry? One in every ten babies are born like this, and it’s not like it’s special just because it’s on her chest. It’s her husband who tugs the sheets down further to reveal more of the mark. And then they see it. There’s no doubt. And it all clicks for Dahyun’s mother in that moment.

Six buds framed by green leaves. Five small purple ones on the same stem. And one large crinkled unmistakably pink bud. Two types of leaves. Two types of stem. Two marks, right next two each other.

Two.

A therapist is assigned to their case. Someone to study the little girl, to learn her ways and interview her the moment she starts being able to speak. They try to get her out of it, it’s not like she asked for any of it. But what are they supposed to do? It’s government orders, to let their daughter submit for examinations. Illegal to hide the marks in the first place, and even if they wanted to, it got registered on the day of her birth.

Dahyun doesn’t grow up happy. Not in the slightest. Learns to hate the touch of another human and hates herself for being mad at her parents for not shielding her. Hides from the world and yells into her pillow at night. Tries to channel her anger through any creative media, but has patience for none. Spends half a life in offices with explanatory posters and kleenex on the table between her and whatever authority she’s faced with. Spends the other half planning her escape. Starts when she’s only ten years old, her brain exceeding her age by far.

 

Dahyun’s barely eighteen when she runs away. Not from her parents, god no, they’re helping her - but from everyone who wants to see the mark. Anyone who wants to know her stories. Losing contact with her parents, her brother, it’s just the price she has to pay.

It’s a friend of a friend of Dahyun’s father who finds her a room in a flat several hundred miles away. There are steps to be taken to disappear. Changes to be made. A change in wardrobe. A solid amount of bleach for the black hair to turn blonde. Even leaving behind her name.

She’s no longer Dahyun.

Is just the girl who scan’s people’s groceries and wishes every pair of dead eyes a good day, just to earn enough of a living to pay for her room. Ignores the flat mates even if they try hard to befriend her the first few weeks. Still lives under the fear that someone will find out; call her a freak, call her a monster, call her heartless.

Maybe it’s the fact that she never talks to anyone, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s never had the interest to learn anything about anyone – mainly because everyone just wants to know everything about her, and she doesn’t really give a damn about herself. But whatever the reason, she’s too slow that day. The day at the cash register on her 7 th  hour of scanning diapers and frozen pizzas and beer to the masses. Too slow to speak up when a girl hands her the cash, the mark on her wrist poking out under her coat. Just takes the money, eyes glued to the pink iris that she barely makes eye contact. But when she does – even just for a split second, it’s like lightning. The girl’s eyes are so intense, yet so kind, that Dahyun forgets how to think.

And then she’s gone.

It’s the first time in her entire life she’s wanted to reach out and tell someone about herself. To not just humor her surroundings and play fool for their tricks and accept their kindness behind a wall. To actually offer something of herself to someone else. Because she knows that flower. Even if hers is still just a bud. Has stared at it so long in the mirror at night when she didn’t have to hide.

But what can she do? She’s mercilessly stuck to this chair for another three hours before she can go, and by then the girl is long gone. But if she came in here for… what did she buy? Chips and a bag of jelly? Some noodles? Dahyun isn’t sure. But it wasn’t a lot, and if she came here for that, then she must be somewhere nearby, right? And it had bloomed. But what if it was just a coincidence? There were only so many flowers in the world and with 7 billion people, albeit only ten percent of them with marks, there’s bound to be an overlap of some sorts, right? But she has to find out somehow. Has to. For the first time in her life there’s something she  _ has _ to do, not to get away, but to get closer. Even if it might just break her heart.

 

Dahyun does everything she can think of. Takes as many shifts as she can, walks the streets with searching eyes instead of looking at the cracks in the pavement, tries with everything she has to get a glimpse of pink.

 

It’s just the thing though, that it’s not pink she sees a month later sitting in her seat at the grocery store. It’s purple. Purple freesias on a slender wrist swiping the credit card to pay for her groceries. Purple freesias belonging to a kind face framed by brown hair in a ponytail, the thin sweater hanging loosely off slender shoulders. 

She’s just meant to say “Have a nice day.” But she doesn’t. For a second the words catch in her throat, and then she blurts so fast that the girl in front of her can’t possibly be expected to understand.

“Do you have more of those?”

The girl tilts her head with a frown. “Excuse me?”

Dahyun can feel her heart situated somewhere in her throat. Can feel how her palms turn sweaty as she holds onto the cash register just to ground herself.

“Do you… That mark.” Dahyun nods towards the girl’s wrist. “Do you have more?”

For a moment the girl just stares. Then her eyes widen and she lifts her hand, turning her wrist, almost as if she’s seeing it for the first time.

Someone coughs in the queue, and Dahyun’s cheeks flush.

“You should-”

“I’ll come back. When are you off?” the girl says, as if it’s no big deal.

“Six.” Dahyun says automatically, eyes fixed on the girl’s face. She nods and takes her groceries.

 

It’s almost impossible to concentrate, and she ends her shift getting reprimanded for having too big a cash difference, but Dahyun doesn’t care. She’s had a pulse of at least two hundred for the past four hours, her stomach doing gymnastics routines at the memory of the freesia. It had to be them, right? You can’t just meet two people in the same place with matching soulmarks of the same flowers she has. She might not have bothered that much with people before, but she was good with school and she knows the likelihood of something like that happening. It’s basically non-existent.

 

The sun is high on the sky, but the wind is cold, and Dahyun zips up the last three inches of her jacket, walking around the building to the front of the grocery store. Stops dead at the sight of them. Not just the kind face is waiting for her, but the piercing eyes are there as well. And they look at her with faces that express the same insecurity that Dahyun feels. The same fear that it’s just an impossible coincidence. But she tries anyway. Walks towards them, the nervous smile she always tries to curse away, tugging at the corners of her mouth. Except it doesn’t feel anything like the nervous smile. It just feels like excitement. Anticipation. Hope.

“Hi…” Dahyun’s voice shakes and her breath materializes in a white puff.

“Hi.” The kind face says, her voice as sweet as Dahyun remembered it.

There’s a silence that neither of the three fill, and then the piercing eyes stretch out a hand, offering it to Dahyun. Dahyun takes an instinctive step back, and the girl immediately retreats her hand.

“I’m- I’m sorry. It’s not-” Dahyun tries, without really realizing what she wants. Looks at their large coats and the iris on the piercing eyes’ wrist.

“What’s your name?” the kind face asks softly, stopping Dahyun’s panic from materializing.

And when she tells them, she uses the name she hasn’t used for so long, ever since she moved here.

“Dahyun.”

“Dahyun…” the kind face says her name as if tasting it on her tongue.

Dahyun nods, then looks at the piercing eyes, her heart immediately jolting. “What’s yours?”

“Momo.” the piercing eyes say. “And hers is Sana.”

“That sounds foreign.” Dahyun scrunches her nose.

“We moved here when we were nineteen. We’re from Osaka.” Momo explains.

“And you’re…” Dahyun swallows and nods at the iris on Momo’s wrist.

“Oh. Yeah.” Momo says. Sana nods too and rustles back the sleeve of her jacket to show hers as well.

Dahyun stares. It’s the first time she’s seen those flowers and found them to be absolutely stunning. 

“You asked if I have more.” Sana lowered her hand, and Dahyun noticed that her pinky wrapped around Momo’s. As if they needed each other but didn’t want to be rude. But Dahyun wouldn’t have found it rude if they held hands. 

“We both do.” Momo continued, smiling as Dahyun’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “One more. Each. The same one. Do you have ours?”

Dahyun’s entire system stopped working right then and there. Every nerve in her body had gone off on it’s own, no connection to each other, just exploding in fireworks, and it took every ounce of self-control to nod.

Then Momo reached out again, but Dahyun drew back once more. But not out of reflex this time.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready.” Sana assured her, finally grasping Momo’s hand fully, tangling their fingers.

“It’s not that,” Dahyun’s cheeks felt hot. “I… I want to see it bloom.”

The smile that spread on their faces was more than Dahyun had ever hoped to give to someone else.


	3. Bloom

Maybe one day Dahyun would look back on this day and wonder how she ended up here. But for now, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s here now, walking with two girls in the opposite direction of the room she had called her own for what was closing in on three years. With girls who, as the only ones, knew her real name. And they’re not walking in front of her. Not letting her fall to the side. They walk between her; careful not to touch her, even her jacket. Just frame her, like a chip held over a cracked cup, waiting to be put back in place.

 

The anticipation is palpable between them already, and only builds with every step they take. Dahyun wonders momentarily how far they’re supposed to walk still, until they’re at the apartment - that’s all Dahyun knows, that they’re headed for their apartment. A snort leaves Dahyun at the thought that enters her mind. Going back with two gorgeous girls to their place to show them her chest. As if she’d ever thought that would happen. Sure. Right. But there was nothing weird about it somehow. And the way her heart was hammering against her ribs was a testament to the truth that Dahyun had been unaware of her entire life. That it had waited patiently, through all her anger and misery, for this hope. Was beating so hard because it was finally allowed, as if trying to make up for all the joy Dahyun hadn’t been allowed to feel.

 

She doesn’t need the buds to bloom to know that she’s found her home. Has probably known it since she first saw Momo’s eyes. But it makes Dahyun’s throat close up at the thought. Because what if? No, there was no what if. It was just a situation Dahyun has never considered.

Dahyun frowns as a thought struck her.

“How long have you been together?” She asks, as conversationally as she can manage with her heart trying to make direct contact with the buds covering the skin above it.

They turned a corner.

Sana seems to consider for a second, then shrugs. “Sixteen-seventeen years.”

Dahyun stops dead, and they almost bump into her. Dahyun turns to look at them.

“How old are you two exactly?”

Momo giggles. The sound makes Dahyun’s head spin just a little.

“Twenty two. I found her in kindergarten.” Momo explains.

“Ki-... that’s early.” Dahyun gapes at them.

“Very. We basically just grew up together.” Sana smiles.

Dahyun nods and turns back around. Walks between them again, not brave enough yet to ask what she wants. Mostly because it’d be so embarrassing to admit that she hadn’t ever thought about them. That she’s hated them. That she’s hated nameless faceless people for their souls choosing hers. She never asked for any of it.

 

The apartment is small, but homey. With sandy colored walls and wooden floors, and mismatched furniture. Dahyun hesitates in the door, watching as the girls take off coats and scarves and shoes.

“You don’t have to be scared.” Momo says quietly when Sana walks over to a big bottle green armchair and drops her bag in the seat, grabbing a pair of fluffy socks, putting them on with a note that she always has cold feet.

“Dahyun.” Momo says again, when Dahyun doesn’t react. And the youngest looks up at the oldest, and finds home in the piercing eyes. Nods and takes off the coat, hanging it next to theirs on one of the four little hooks right by the door. Tugs the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. Just a habit.

“Thank you.” Dahyun mumbles, following Momo into the apartment.

 

Honestly, you could fit an elephant in the space taken up by the awkward silence in that moment. Dahyun shuffles. Then feels her throat close up and the need to avert her eyes as Sana nimbly reaches across herself and takes off the white knitted sweater she’d been wearing. But it just reveals a tank-top. 

And something more.

Something that makes Dahyun’s stomach do a backflip and her feet carry her forwards as if pulled by magnetic force. White buds cradled by green leaves on Sana’s right shoulder.

“They’re bouvardias.” Sana explains, angling her torso to show them to Dahyun. And for a moment Dahyun forgets, and almost reaches out. Wants to touch it. Sees how it glows on the skin, just for her. Then Sana nods in Momo’s direction, and Dahyun turns. Sees Momo undoing three buttons in her shirt, then turning around, shaking the shirt off her shoulders and holding up her long dark hair, tying it into a bun with a hair tie around her wrist.

It’s the exact same flower. Except it’s over her spine, covering the spinous processes of the lower cervical vertebrae and the upper thoracic ones, spreading over the skin.

“The same.” Dahyun breathes, turning back to Sana.

Sana nods. “Which means… that you have-”

“Yeah. I do.” Dahyun looks to Sana’s hand again, and then Momo’s as she joins them, one hand holding the shirt closed at the front - probably out of courtesy of Dahyun’s possible modesty. It’s not needed, but Dahyun appreciates it.

“Where?” Momo asks.

“... Here.” Dahyun holds a hand over her heart, over the hoodie. Wishes she had worn something underneath it.

“And the other?” Sana asks with a frown.

“Both here.” Dahyun says and presses her lips together. Looks at the white buds on Sana’s shoulder.

They don’t ask her to hurry. Don’t even look impatient. Just take her in, as if they’ve missed her all their lives. Guilt rushes over Dahyun once more.

“I never looked for you.” Dahyun admits, looking from one to the other. “I never wanted you.”

“But you found us.” Momo says calmly. Adjusts her hold on the shirt. “That’s more than we managed, and we searched far and wide. Hoped you might see our pictures and recognize your own marks in our hands.”

Dahyun frowns. “What do you mean?”

“She means that we’ve been putting up pictures of our hands, just our hands, for years. We figured if we both had this mark,” Sana moves her shoulder a bit, drawing attention to it, “that you’d have the iris and freesia. So maybe you’d see it and recognize it and contact us.”

Dahyun feels how her mouth falls slightly open, then breathes heavily. “I never knew.”

“So much for that dating app, Momo.” Sana nudges Momo, and Dahyun isn’t exactly sure what’s going on, but it makes Momo giggle again, so Dahyun doesn’t mind being out of the loop.

“You were born with it?” Sana asks.

Dahyun nods. “Both of them. I’m turning twenty one soon.”

“That fits with when we got these.” Sana says. “Late may.”

“28th, yeah.” Dahyun nods, then feel how her racing heart makes way for something else. Makes way for something that clenches her heart and then bursts from her, in gasping breaths and a feeling so overwhelming she has to crouch down, hugging her knees, tears spilling. And it’s not until she sees Sana and Momo sitting on the floor in front of her, that she realizes what it is.

 

Relief.

 

With a shaking body and tears trickling down her cheeks, Dahyun sits down on the floor properly, and pulls the hoodie over her head without hesitance. Even if this means sitting on the floor of an apartment belonging to two girls she’s only known a few hours, in her bra and jeans and nothing else. The only feeling rushing through her is an overwhelming trust as Sana and Momo look at the flowerbuds over her heart. She can feel how her chest rises and falls heavily, see how their eyes search every detail of the marks.

“I never thought they’d be in the same place.” Momo whispers.

“I never thought we’d get to see them…” Sana adds quietly.

Silence settles again, and Dahyun looks down at her own chest. It’s weird seeing the marks in daylight. Weird to have them admired. Weird to be thankful of them.

It’s Sana who talks first. 

“...So how do we, I mean-” 

“You wanted to see it, right?” Momo asks Dahyun. “See it bloom?”

“I did.” Dahyun nods. “But-”

“But what?”

“I’m not sure it matters that much anymore.” Dahyun says quietly.

“Why not?” Sana frowns.

“Because…” Dahyun trails off. Looks from Momo to Sana and smiles softly.

 

There’s a certain spark, right before your life changes. You can sense it in the air. And it’s not the four marks that bloom, that changes Dahyun’s life. It’s the fact that she reaches out. Takes their hands in hers without hesitance, and feels it on her skin, in her heart, in every fiber of her being.

 

She doesn’t see her mark bloom. Barely notices the petals stretching on Sana’s shoulder. Just feels everything there is to feel about being tethered to someone out of your own free will.  The wonder in finding and choosing your soulmates. The freedom of giving yourself to someone else.

 

She’s been special since birth, Dahyun. 

 

The girl who made a choice.


	4. Epilogue: Flourish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the epilogue I never intended to write, but apparently I can't help myself so here you go.  
> For all your hard work Nick, I'm so proud of you! Please keep fighting <3

Dahyun shudders.  


She should probably close the windows, the room already too cold and goosebumps on her skin under the hoodie, but she can’t. Just stares out onto the city she hates. The ugliest skyline in the country. Except maybe for the old district. That’s pretty hard to hate.  
  
With a sigh Dahyun leans on her arms, shifting her weight. 

They’re not rushing her the least. Has offered her a couch or a ride home if that’s what she wants. But it’s not; she just doesn’t know how to say it.

Even in the darkest hours of the night where she could possibly see a future, Dahyun had never imagined that it would include so many choices. Meeting your soulmates is one thing. But choosing them? God why does that part have to be so hard.

Dahyun leans back up, clutching her chest. It still itches a little, the mark on her chest. The mark. She belongs here; if she wants to.  
And she does. 

But this isn’t just about her choosing them. What if she’s not what they had expected, had hoped. Because it’s obvious from the pictures they’ve shown that they imagined her. But she’s just Dahyun. She can’t be that. Can’t be everything they’ve looked for.

With another shudder, Dahyun reaches behind and pulls the hood up, covering her face. Blows hot air into her hands and rubs them against each other. She should really close the window.

“I wish for you to want me.” Dahyun sighs. She knows they’re there. Could sense them for at least the past five minutes.

“Of course we-“

“I wish for you to want... me.” Dahyun intereupts Momo. “Not the idea of me, not because of my mark. But me.”

“We do-“

“You don’t know me.” Dahyun looks around at them, Sana’s mouth slightly open after Dahyun’s interruption. “But I want you to.”

Sana nods. Rubs her bare arms. Quickly, Dahyun turns to close the window.

“It feels like home. I mean I never felt like anything was home, but you feel like home and it scares me so much.” Dahyun admits as she turns back to face them, hugging her arms. Can’t face them so she talks to their knees.

“Dahyun?” Momo’s voice isn’t daminding her eyes, just her ears. Dahyun loves that about her. That she knows somehow not to claim more of Dahyun than she can give in that moment.

“I’m not sure I’ll know how to balance it.” Dahyun tells their feet. “It’s all a big mess in my head. I want to run and I want you to hold me and tell me to stay. I want to find that bubble you burst - to hide inside it and I want to touch you. I want to protect myself and surrender to you. And I’m not sure I’ll know how to balance it.”

“We could start with hot chocolate?” Momo suggests.

“Marshmallows when you’re ready for that.” Sana adds.

There’s not a single thing in the world that would be able to stop the smile that spreads across Dahyun’s lips, staring at their knees. She’s always ready for marshmallows.

“Hold me?” she whispers. Isn’t strong enough to look up, but finds that she doesn’t need to be. Just needs to ask for them. And they’re right there, tentatively touching her arms at first, then slowly, like the petals of a flower closing around the stamens to keep it safe from the cold of the nights, their bodies envelop her.

The shuddering sigh that leaves Dahyun is liberating. Leaves her mind empty of worry, and she grasps at their arms to fold them tighter around herself. Leans her head against Sana’s chest and closes her eyes.

She might want to run again, and she knows it’ll come once she starts to tell them about herself, but right now it doesn’t seem so scary. It’s as if she’s been climbing a ladder all her life, knowing she’d some day have to jump off the top, only to find that there’s someone there, willing to catch her.

She just wants to jump with them.

So she does. Opens her eyes and finds Momo’s so softly on her. It’s too soon and not soon enough all at once, as Dahyun lifts her head from Sana’s chest and tugs at Momo’s arm. Stares at her intensely, inching closer.

“Dahyun?” Momo frowns.

“Is it ok?” Dahyun breathes.

“Of course.”

Dahyun nods, feeling Sana’s arms tighter around her. Knows she’s not trying to pull Dahyun away, but instead holding her safe as they jump. As Dahyun closes the distance between herself and Momo, feeling the older girl’s sharp inhale and her lips against Dahyun’s own. How they shudder slightly and then return the kiss softly.

It doesn’t mean that Dahyun is never scared again. Doesn’t mean that she never missteps. But as she draws back and feels Sana’s lips on her cheek, asking for more, she can’t help but give in.

Because she’s wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> KEY....


End file.
